Much Madness Is Divinest Sense
by Lithia Sunset
Summary: "-but if you become involved with me, you will be throwing yourself into the abyss." Peregrin Rosethorne is detained by Agent Coulson for questioning when she walks into an office at Stark Tower, demands to see Pepper Potts, and mentions her knowledge of the existence of S.H.I.E.L.D. At headquarters, she manages to find her way somewhere she shouldn't have been in the first place.
1. Detained

**Much Madness Is Divinest Sense**

 _By Lithia Sunset/Lithia DeLaSunset_

* * *

 **Much Madness Is Divinest Sense**

Chapter 1: Detained

* * *

"Who the hell let you drive?"

Pippin couldn't find it in herself to cringe. Or stop from being a smart-ass, as per usual.

"Santa Claus," she simpered. "Said I'd been an extra good girl this past year and all. Early present for good behavior."

A lot of witches and wizards found it hard to drive, anyway. She'd just been desperately eluding someone, however. Some weird stalker of which she hadn't been able rid herself. She tipped her head up to give the exasperated person in question a rather innocent look. She batted her eyelashes at the security guard.

"Miss-" he began, but she ducked away then, out of his reach, dashing head-first into the buzz of the office building before her, leaving the badly parallel-parked purple Volkswagen Bug and screaming guard behind her.

He had jumped back out of the way trying not to get hit when she'd swerved to a stop, one tire on the pavement. She'd leapt out excitedly, and that's when he'd shared his, in her opinion, rude concerns about her driving. Pippin could honestly drive better than she had, but being on the run kind of made her not care.

She skittered around employees, dodged the front desk clerk while they weren't looking, and dove into the elevator with a number of people who had ID badges pinned to the fronts of their business attire, all while clutching onto a sleeping cat. She tried not to jostle anyone, wishing she didn't stick out like a sore thumb. The cat, Merry, made a grumpy noise and turned over. He had a nicked ear, and a long, healed scratch along his side, a battle scar on his nose, and a bobbed tail. The people, of course, stared openly at her. Merry opened one bleary eye, gave them all the look, and closed it once more. His claws pricked at her arms through the sleeves of her over-large red sweater. She caught sight of herself, then, on one of the shiny surfaces in the elevator: her long, ginger curls; her large, grey, eyes; and her brown hands and face. Her bell-bottom jeans, blue sneakers, and bright top obscured the rest of her brown body, and her deep pocket obscured her wand. She had a matching red headscarf on, tied into a bow; there was a big pink heart on the front of her sweater, the sleeves of which partially concealed her hands. The straps of her black backpack stood out darkly.

Pippin shifted nervously, anxiously watching the people behind her. No one seemed too interested past mild curiosity and wondering why in the damn world she was there. This relieved her somewhat, and some of the tension left her shoulders. One woman near her seemed as if she had just refrained from saying anything to her. Her lips pursed, she squinted her eyes as if scrutinizing Pippin, and her arms crossed. Pippin rolled her eyes.

As soon as the doors dinged open, some of the crowd filed out and some more came in after they left. Pippin began drumming her fingers against her thigh impatiently. She turned her head and looked for a gullible-looking intern. Spotting one, she calmly sidled over to him. She put on her best charming, innocent smile. "Hey there," she said cheerily. He glanced at her out of the corner of his eye. She winked. His lips quirked.

"Hello?" Pippin grinned winningly, glad he had paid her any mind. She needed an opening.

"Does, a-ah, Pepper Potts work here? I heard she did and I wanted to see her..." She twirled a curl around her finger. "Do you think that you could show me to her office?" She really layered it on think then, licking her lips and flipping her hair in subtle little ways she knew would make him focus in on her and get drawn in just like the others who'd come before him. The man opened and closed his mouth, helplessly caught.

"I-I-I," he stuttered. Pippin put a hand on his arm.

"Don't you know the way? I'm sure it wouldn't take long..." Meanwhile, she quietly filched the ID card of the old woman at her side while no one was watching, just in case. She hoped the clearance would be high enough.

"Um, sure," the intern finally murmured, running a hand through his short hair. His lips turned upward and he seemed to warm to her. "I can take you there." His shoulders straightened. He seemed to feel very important, Pippin mused. She figured that no one asked him anything like that, ever, the way he acted. Perhaps it was just the chance to do something concerning Ms. Potts. She was, after all, a very important woman. "You have an appointment?" Pippin bit the inside of her cheek. It wasn't exactly a lie. "Uh, yeah. She's expecting me."

The intern rubbed his hands together excitedly and pressed a button on the lift, swiping his card. Pippin noticed the bounce in his heel even before the door opened to the right floor and the two of them stepped out into office space. She glanced around as he led her through a maze of cubicles to a closed office. He knocked twice.

"Come in," a voice called. Pippin's brow furrowed, but she followed him inside anyway. The voice did not belong to Pepper. Instead, a cheery-looking young woman not too much older than Pippin looked up at them. She offered an enjoying smile.

"Hello there. What can I do for you?"

"This woman asked to see Ms. Potts. She says she's expected."

The young woman's brow furrowed. "Ms. Potts didn't say anything about having any appointments scheduled this morning. You say you're expected?" She directed the attention at Pippin, who nodded. Frowning slightly, the woman picked up her desk phone and swiftly punched in an extension. "And I suppose you have a name," she said, trying not to sound rude. Pippin swallowed hard.

"She'll know who I am. Just tell her that the lantern's hung. Or you could tell her I know about S.H.I.E.L.D."

The woman didn't seem to know quite how to take that, but grew very quiet and closed off and went with it anyway, tapping her pen on her desk as she waited. When she finally got through, she sat back in her chair and began speaking into the receiver:

"I'm sorry to disturb you ma'am, but there's some woman here saying she's expected. She said something about a shield and a lantern being hung—" The woman sat up suddenly. "Why no ma'am, she's closer to my age than yours. Why—" She got cut off again and sat listening. She shook her head. "Yes, curly red hair. Grey eyes?" She glanced upward at Pippin for that one. "Yes, but not Caucasian. What do you want me to—" She fell silent once more. This time she stared rather intently at Pippin.

"All right ma'am, we'll hold her until later this afternoon." She hung up the phone and leaned forward over her desk. She pressed the buzzer. "Security, this is Pamela Welsh speaking. We have someone in my office of whom Ms. Potts wants detained until further notice. She's conducting an unscheduled business meeting at the moment."

"Security? Detained?" Pippin stepped back, but felt a hand close around her arm gently. She trend and saw that the intern had clasped a hold of her with a sheepish expression in place.

"I'm sorry, Miss. Ms. Potts doesn't mean this to be rude, I'm sure."

The door opened a few minutes later and a curious sort of man peered into the room. He immediately spotted Pippin, extending a hand to her.

"If you'd follow me."

Pippin shook her head. "No thanks, suite, I'd rather not. I'll just go. This was a big mistake, a misunderstanding, that's all…"

The man's smile only widened.

"This is not a request, Miss."

Pippin relented uncertainly, though still refusing to take his hand.

"All right. But. I don't enjoy being manhandled," she stated firmly. She stepped around him with what little room she had, holding Merry closer. He pressed his face more into her breast and snored. Fat lot of help he was, huh? And when she needed him to help her out a little, too. Pippin didn't see any stairs in sight, so no chances of making a break for it. They'd probably catch her anyway, she mused to herself. Dammit.

She allowed herself to be led by the nameless security agent and the nameless intern back through the cubicles and to the elevator, but turned, heading down a hallway that ended with another smaller and clearly private elevator. The guard wordlessly pulled out another ID badge with what appeared to be a higher clearance level. The doors dinged open. He turned to the intern still gripping Pippin.

"You can go back to work now. You won't be need for anything further. Thank you for your help." His fingers unclenched from her skin and he left, glancing back frequently until he had to turn out of sight. Pippin couldn't help but scoff. "Didn't even know his name. Bet you don't either."

He said nothing, but gestured toward the awaiting elevator. Pippin sighed and stepped in in front of him. The doors shut behind him.

"Jake," he said, startling her as they started to move upward.

"What?" She tipped her head curiously.

"You said I didn't know his name, but I do. His name is Jake Long." Oh.

"You probably just read his badge," she replied dismissively, masking her surprise. The man chuckled.

"You could have, too."

"Too nervous," she shrugged, leaning against the wall. The man copied her movements. It was unnerving, being analyzed and dissected based on the angle of how she leaned against a wall. She straightened. He straightened. She cleared her throat. He spoke. "You claim to know about S.H.I.E.L.D."

Ah, straight to the point. "Yes." No point in denying it. She had said so.

"And you claim association with Ms. Potts. Am I correct?"

"Maybe," she said, suddenly irritated.

"Why am I getting the third degree? All I wanted was to see Pepper Potts and instead I get the secret police called down on me like I'm in some sort of totalitarian state."

Seeming amused with her, he shoved his hands deeply into his pockets.

"Miss…whoever you are, you don't throw around that acronym lightly. You and I both know we are not talking about an unassuming warfare item of antiquity."

"Not unless you want the right people to hear you," Pippin replied.

"Well, you certainly did."

"I meant Pepper. That's the only secret of hers I've got, and I figured she wouldn't just dismiss me if I…"

Pippin suddenly felt very, very small, and perhaps a little petty.

"You're from S.H.I.E.L.D, then?"

"Agent Phil Coulson."

"Are you taking me to some murder room, Phil Coulson?" She certainly hoped not. She wouldn't want to have to take certain measures.

"No, of course not." Not yet, she thought to herself. She fiddled with her sleeves and Merry's ears.

"I still don't know your name," Agent Coulson ventured.

"Maybe if you were actually going to Pepper and not the roof…"

Coulson showed surprise that she'd figured that. To his intense stare, she said shrugged and gestured to accompany her explanation. "I'm not stupid. No buttons, quick and quiet getaway with no witnesses, plus there's nowhere to hold me there. I figure since you're S.H.I.E.L.D and you've already started interrogating me that you'll take me back, grill me, and possibly give me a pair of bracelets until, or maybe if, I see Pepper. I figure you'll vet me, maybe torture me since I know you guys are kinky like that, and make sure I'm not an axe murderer type or something."

"Or something."

"Probably more like national security risk."

"Probably."

The elevator stopped. The doors opened.

"Hey, skinny britches."

Coulson turned to her, eyebrows raised. He seemed very laid-back, lighthearted, and at ease. "You like me or something, or do you always smile at people like that?" She moved forward slowly, carefully opening and closing her eyes so her lashes flashed just right, and the light hit her eyes just right. She tilted her head and focused directly on him. Coulson froze, his smile flickering.

"Would you please move out of the elevator and come with me, Miss?"

No longer sounding jovial, his tone had gone completely cold. Curious but startled, Pippin obliged silently, not saying another word even as he led her across the roof, onto the landing pad, and into the helicopter.

* * *

Loki paced the inside of his containment center, the yellow glow of the boundary coming into and out of his line of sight. He paused, scowling down at the hideous attire he had on his person. He didn't know what they'd done to him, but he felt different, chained from the inside and the outside. He felt defeated, and depressed. No books, no visitors, and no sunlight. He'd gotten paler and gaunter, his hair unkempt. He desperately craved some kind of interaction, even with his vile excuse for a father, or with Thor. Instead, perpetual solitude. Blank walls anywhere he could see, with not even one unattractive or uninspiring painting.

He lifted his foot to walk again, but froze as he felt a new presence very close by his high-tech dungeon. Someone near the door. Would he have someone joining him, then? Surely not. They wouldn't risk sticking someone else into the same little detention unit as his. He'd either do away with them or escape with them. He strode quickly to the end of his cell, then, as far as he could, and peered out, but the bend in the hallway prevented him from seeing them.

He hissed in annoyance but dismissed the incident quickly. It didn't mean anything. Probably just another S.H.I.E.L.D recruitment effort of another power. His lips curled back in disdain. He hated the lot of them. He'd been glad to get away from his original captor, although he knew that despite not being tortured by S.H.I.E.L.D, he had a much grimmer predicament before him. He would live decades, even centuries longer, as long as he had basic necessities. That was a long time to be isolated in near-sensory deprivation. He knew that without anything to occupy him, his spiral into complete insanity would be inevitable. Be almost welcomed it. Then he could forget about everything, and all of the pain would cease to pound against him day by day.

He went and sat on the horrendous bed they'd given him, staring at his dish of meager sustenance they'd provided. Sometimes he wished they'd starve him, execute him outright even. It would be quicker, at least. But Thor in all his nobility would not allow it. Thor still preached humane treatment.

Thor never visited.

Loki upset his food tray and stared at the mess, and then he stared at the Elven-made power-neutralizing restraints on his wrists and ankles. He was a lost cause, apparently. What was the point in continuing to live out his wretched existence a moment longer?

* * *

Pippin didn't understand the sudden detached attitude Coulson had turned on towards her. Was he some kind of sociopath? Had he been playing her? Those thoughts and others worried her as the helicopter came to a final halt, the blades stilling. Coulson didn't even look at her when he opened the door and held it. Blinking, Pippin clambered out after him into bright daylight. She kept her head down and trailed along behind him.

"Are you cross with me?" She asked him in her meekest voice so she wouldn't sound either too flirty or too hostile, or even vulnerable.

"No," Coulson responded shortly, adding nothing more.

Pippin persisted. "Then why are you suddenly acting like the world's biggest dick? You did a complete one-eighty on me, and I don't appreciate it." Coulson stopped so suddenly that Pippin almost walked into him.

"What the—"she screeched.

"What I don't appreciate," he said between clenched teeth, "is someone trying to mess with my mind."

Pippin's forehead scrunched in confusion. "What on earth are you talking about, Agent Coulson?"

He faced her. "What you did back there. Whatever that was. I don't very much like mind control."

Pippin blinked. Oh. Oh. Her mother had warned her…she scuffed her sneaker along the rooftop. "Sorry. I forget how easy it kind of happens sometimes. I didn't mean to, then."

Coulson's jaw tightened, clenching and unclenching. He spun and began walking again. Pippin scurried to keep up with him, not exactly ashamed but sort of amazed that he had realized what had been going on at all. She was half-veela, which meant she had a certain…allure. A special veela enchantment ingrained in veela that drew others to her, and that made it pretty easy to get what she wanted from just about anyone. It had been something she'd used so often at times that she wasn't even aware of turning on the old veela charm. Poor Coulson, what he must think of her, and they'd just met….It didn't make it easy, being part veela in a magical society that raved about blood purity. Her father had been a muggle-born, which worsened it, and his grandmother, it was rumored, had been an elf. Not some lowly house elf, but some other sort from somewhere very far away. She'd left him with his father, and he'd grown up without her. It didn't make any difference, though. Even if she'd stayed, her line of mixed blood would have been treated the same way anyhow. Pippin, though, rather liked not being exactly human. She had human rights, and human emotions, and human flaws, but she also had much, much, more. And it made her unique. A small smile flitted across her face at that.

The light outside did nothing to change how the light hit her going into the building. Overbearing and sterile, it nearly blinded her. She tried her best to follow Coulson down winding hallways, twisting and turning and taking lifts up and then down depending on location, something she assumed kept her from seeing certain things. As they neared one section, Coulson stopped even more abruptly than he had outside and swore heavily. Confused, Pippin gazed at him for an answer. His shoulders were tight, and when he turned to her he almost seemed accusing before that accusatory glimmer in his eyes passed.

"What?" Her eyes darted around warily and her lips parted. A feeling of foreboding pooled into her stomach.

"You're secreting heavily from your adrenal gland," she said aloud. She lowered her voice. "What did you do? Did you take me somewhere we're not supposed to be? Do you even have clearance to be here?"

"I have clearance," he said simply, sounding angry with himself as he continued. "But no, you most certainly should not be here. I've been trying to keep you away from our projects and ended up bringing you here by mistake. I…forgot." He ran a hand over the bald crown of his head, frowning softly. His eyes darted to her face, suddenly suspicious again. "Did you do this? Did you make me hazy and distracted? Are you working together? Are you here to free him?"

"Free who?" Pippin asked, stepping to look through the security glass at the long hallway beyond the door to their left. Coulson grabbed her and held fast, staring into her eyes. Merry hissed groggily, still asleep.

"You know who," he hissed. "How could you not?" Pippin squirmed, but kept their eyes locked. She softened her voice to sound as injured as possible. "You're hurting me. You know you want to let me go."

Coulson blinked and paused momentarily, slightly confused and at a loss as to what he'd been about to say to her. She knew that look, so she kept going. "Please." She shifted Merry to one side. Her hand turned and trailed her fingers down his arm as best she could with it pinned. "Please let me go, Agent Coulson."

She kept up the small, innocent touch, her voice weaving him deeper, her eyes pulling him in further into the trance. A door slammed somewhere ahead of them, and Pippin, despite herself, turned to look. That was all it took. Coulson's entire frame shuddered as if he'd been dashed by cold water. Just then, he seemed to return to himself. He shook his head furiously and retreated, yanking his hands away. "I would appreciate it if you stopped doing that."

Pippin shrugged. "You let go, didn't you?"

Coulson stared at his hands, then past her, through the little frame of glass over her shoulder. "I guess you really don't know, do you?"

"Know…?"

"Loki," Coulson said, "Loki is in there. Locked up tightly, of course. Asgardian tech, mixed in with layers of protection provided by other realms, reinforced with a few fail-safe techniques of our own."

"You're kidding," Pippin breathed.

"I want to see."

Immediately Coulson hardened in demeanor and tone. "He's not an exhibit at the museum or a puppy in a storefront window. He's a killer, a murderer, a destroyer. You could be the nicest person in the world and he would still try and rip you apart, or turn you against your allies."

"Then he doesn't need me, now does he?" Pippin said gently, seeing the tension as something more personal. "He wronged you, too, didn't he? This isn't just about him being a great big bag of dicks and starting a war against us, is it?"

"He tried to kill me," Coulson responded, adding, "And you can't see." He waved a hand in what Pippin assumed to be the general direction of Loki, locked away tight away from everyone. "No one can ever see. Aside from mealtimes, he has nothing else, and absolutely not under any circumstance is he allowed to have visitors. Not even Thor."

"Total isolation," Pippin blurted. "How…lonely." Coulson gave her a once-over as if she were very strange.

"You're going to drive him mad, if you haven't already."

"If he breaks and slips into a catatonic state, we're all better off," Coulson murmured.

"That's cruel," Pippin whispered.

"As was he," Coulson retorted bitterly. Pippin sighed. "Let's go then. If I can't see, there's no use staying here any longer. It's not practical."

Relief emanated from Coulson, and he led her away from what she could only see as Loki's tomb.


	2. Nursed

**Much Madness Is Divinest Sense**

 _By Lithia Sunset/Lithia DeLaSunset_

* * *

 **Much Madness Is Divinest Sense**

Chapter 2: Nursed

* * *

Pippin stared at the silver tabletop, absentmindedly stroking Merry's back and wondering if she should just deal with them or make a break for it. She'd been waiting for half an hour in S.H.I.E.L.D headquarters already. She could take out the few agents who'd come running, and easily, but she would rather not raise unnecessary questions or cause something. Disapparating in front of that entire office floor certainly would have. That would have been a lot of Memory Charms, a lot of paperwork, and a miniature apocalypse had anyone filmed her. The Muggles couldn't know about the Wizarding World. They just couldn't. So it had been more convenient and safe to stick with Coulson. Their quiet exit had not made her the center of attention or a headline in the next paper. And she could always escape later, of course. She was just glad the she'd put a charm on her bag to make it unnoticeable, or they would surely have searched it and found incriminating evidence toward her being a witch.

She drummed her fingers, glancing at the observation window. She'd wanted to see Pepper, but hadn't been able to do exactly as planned. She knew that she'd been impulsive and irrational, but hadn't had many options. She also couldn't exactly Apparate somewhere she hadn't been. She hadn't known how to contact Pepper or track her down another way. All she knew was what she'd been able to dig up and ask around for, which hadn't been safe to do anyhow. Her head bowed, and she sighed.

The door opened. Pippin's head snapped up at the sound of it hitting the wall. She tucked her hair behind her ears and straightened, setting her elbows on the table. Merry sat up to stretch, finally fully awake. His blue eyes blinked groggily and his whiskers twitched. Coulson stood in the doorway with a woman. He sat at the table across from Pippin, and the woman sat beside of him. Pippin figured she'd tell them as much truth as she dared. She wouldn't overdo it.

"You know who I am, but you haven't met Agent Hill." He gestured at his companion. "On top of that, we still have no idea who you are."

"Will that allow me to see Pepper?" Pippin asked, "If I can prove I'm not a terrorist and all?"

"It might help," Agent Hill answered. She and Coulson exchanged a glance. Pippin shrugged casually and traced Merry's ear. "Peregrin Rosethorne," Pippin said slowly, "But generally I go by Pippin." Her hand settled on Merry's head and he meowed loudly.

"This is Merry. He's mine."

"I see," Coulson rejoined. He cleared his throat. "And you would like to see Ms. Potts. Could you tell us your business with her?"

"She's family," Pippin told them, "my grandfather is her step-father. He's dead now. Murdered."

"And is she a blood relative?" Hill pressed. Pippin pursed her lips.

"My father is her half-brother, if that's what you're after." She became impatient then. "She's my family. I have every right to see her."

"Another thing," Coulson continued, disregarding her last remark. "How did you obtain knowledge of S.H.I.E.L.D, and do you have further knowledge of any of its inner workings?"

"Not really," Pippin shrugged. "I heard about it through chatter. I know Pepper's with Iron Man, and I know he's an Avenger, and I know they work for you lot. I didn't think he'd hide that from her considering how he hides nothing else. It was a bluff, really. I don't know any more about the meat of S.H.I.E.L.D than the next chatty hacker or blogger is willing to tell me over coffee."

The two agents mulled the information over. Coulson seemed satisfied that she told them the truth so far. He nodded at Hill, who said, "Agent Coulson told a few of us you might have compulsive powers."

Pippin squirmed uncomfortably in her chair at the new line of inquiry.

"I already apologized to him," she muttered loudly, pulling a face. "I've done it so much I didn't even realize I'd started…the first time. The second time he should have just let me go."

"So you admit that you do indeed possess these powers and attempted to manipulate one of our agents?"

"Because he manhandled me!" Pippin exclaimed indignantly, thrusting her body forward. " _After_ he accused me of having ulterior motives for coming to see my own aunt, and after taking me somewhere I didn't give him permission to take me."

Coulson's lips twitched. "You got in the helicopter, didn't you?"

"After you practically threatened me," Pippin retorted. "Don't I get a lawyer or something?"

"No," Coulson explained, "you don't get lawyers when you go somewhere that doesn't exist."

"Unbelievable! I have rights, you know," Pippin huffed.

"Not here, you don't. Agent Hill?"

The two stood together, and Pippin stood with them.

"If I'm not to see Pepper, I demand to be released."

"You don't have the power to demand anything, Miss Rosethorne," Agent Hill responded formally. "We have to verify the information you've given us."

"You still can't keep me in here!" She moved around the table.

Coulson spoke that time. "We don't know what sort of threat you pose, especially to those who are more highly suggestible."

Merry and Pippin both hissed. She ground her teeth together audibly.

"Then hand me off to someone who won't be. Give me a babysitter. Just don't lock me in here. I'll go stir-crazy if you do!"

"I'll take her," someone out of sight offered nonchalantly. Pippin didn't give the agents time to object. She darted past them and out into the hallway, confronted with a person she recognized from news coverage and old history books and the internet; someone tall and broad, with blond hair, blue eyes, and an honest face. Steve Rogers stood before her. He gave her quick scrutiny. "I heard your complaints, ma'am." He extended a hand to her. "Captain Steve Rogers, at your service."

Pippin quickly took his hand and roved her eyes over his face, curtsying despite wearing pants. "Pippin." She winked and blew a kiss. "Thank you, Captain. You're kind."

Coulson and Hill hurriedly interrupted. Hill bodily pulled her back while Coulson stepped between them facing Captain America.

"She's got some sort of power of persuasion. I don't know that you should expose yourself to—"

Pippin struggled, successfully disengaging Hill's strangling embrace. Merry, who'd had to leap from her arms, arched his back at Coulson, snarling. The Captain held up his hands to calm them.

"I think I'm too old for that, Phil."

Hill reached for Pippin again and leapt back when she felt a light shock.

"Ow!" She rubbed her left palm ruefully. Pippin smirked.

"I don't like being manhandled," she repeated from earlier, eyeing Hill and then Coulson. "Remember?" She shrugged away from Hill and stepped carefully around Coulson.

Steve regarded her warily but still extended his hand to her. "If you'll follow me, Miss Pippin. I just had a training session with Agent Romanoff this morning. If anything, you won't be able to entice _her_. Phil?" He stared inquiringly at Coulson as he waited for a response. Coulson massaged his temples. His eyelids moved as if his eyes were flicking back and forth in thought behind them. Finally, he nodded and opened his eyes. "Fine, go ahead." He waved them off.

Grinning, Pippin looped arms with Steve and motioned for him to lead the way. She clicked her tongue at Merry to follow her. Instantly his fur flattened and his back straightened. He spat at Hill and Coulson and trotted to Pippin's side. She cooed at him and he gave her an answering meow. Steve shook his head at her.

"I never understood cats."

Merry wound around his ankle and purred. Pippin giggled and scooped him up with her other arm.

"No matter. Now, wherever shall we go?" She heard the other two S.H.I.E.L.D agents whisper amongst themselves as she walked away with Rogers. He seemed on guard but at ease with her, and amiable enough in personality respects.

They walked in silence for a while, much more casually than she had been when escorted by Coulson. "May I call you Steve?" At his nod, she continued. "Coulson doesn't seem particularly fond of me," she said aloud, and she felt Rogers look at her. "He thinks I've been trying to get into his head, but it's not like that. He freaked out on me."

"He's had a rough time. We all did after Agent Barton and Dr. Selvig had their minds invaded and controlled."

"Yes, but it's not my fault, and then he accused me of working with _him_."

Even though she hadn't elaborated, she knew he'd known who she meant. "I mean, I don't even know him. And just because I had an effect on him and all, Coulson thinks I'm the enemy. He won't let me see Pepper, either, and I know I could just leave, but I would really love to actually get to do what I came to do."

"Which is?"

"Why, see my aunt, of course. I've a right to. She's family."

"Is that all you had planned? You could have done that without mentioning S.H.I.E.L.D."

"Well…"Pippin trailed off uncertainly. "I didn't exactly come on my own behalf…but I also just really wanted to see her. I never have, you see." Steve hummed in his throat and looked sort of thoughtful.

"I suppose you do have a right."

"Thank you," Pippin glowed happily, smothering her veela vibrancy so she wouldn't hook the poor captain like a moth to a flame. "No one else seems to think so. Maybe you could convince them to see things differently for me. I'd appreciate it ever so much."

"Maybe." She didn't know how much faith she had in that maybe.

They stayed quiet until, presently, they came to a room he deigned they enter. Inside, a slender woman with red hair and sharp blue eyes sat pouring over a blueprint of some sort. She glanced up at them when they came through the doorway. Her eyebrows rose and so did she, in one fluid motion. "Who's this?"

Again Pippin felt someone assessing her in a not-quite-friendly manner.

"Natasha, this is Pippin," Steve informed her.

"He's just become the most over-qualified babysitter in the history of earth," Pippin inserted into the conversation. She took a seat at the table, offering her newest observer a wry smile. Steve went to Natasha's side, studying what she had been. Natasha apparently hadn't been satisfied by that answer alone.

"And what made it necessary that you take her as your charge? Did Fury foist her onto you?"

"It was either that or leave her locked in an interrogation room after Coulson and Hill got through with her." Aww, Steve sounded like such a swell guy, she thought to herself.

"What, and you couldn't leave her to that fate? We have a mission to go over." Apparently Natasha—Agent Romanoff—lacked sympathy for her.

"We still can." Steve sounded sure.

"How do we know she's not a threat or a spy?" Natasha sounded suspicious of her. Pippin rolled her eyes. Honestly.

"She says she's waiting to see Pepper. Pepper is supposedly her aunt."

"Pepper can't vouch for her instead of us wasting time and resources vetting her?"

"Pepper's never seen her before."

"Unbelievable. And she was allowed to just walk into headquarters?"

"With Agent Coulson. She's had an agent with her the entire time."

Natasha shook her head but said no more on the subject. The next time she spoke, she spoke in Russian.

Pippin played thoughtfully with Merry, listening to the lilt of their voices as they went back in forth in Russian and German, clearly for privacy, paging through more documents from a file. It was really almost interesting in itself to watch them work together. Pippin wasn't all that bored despite sitting there for almost an hour, but then she got the need to stretch, and her stomach growled audibly. She blushed a little. Steve looked right at her. She hadn't had breakfast that morning, and she knew she's likely missed lunch.

"Hungry?" How did Captain Steve Rogers always sound so nice and sweet? He just _looked_ good-hearted.

Natasha's lips tightened as if she'd rather not be interrupted. Her arms crossed over her chest. She refrained from commenting. Pippin felt grateful. At least she wouldn't have to have a fight over it. She nodded. "I haven't eaten yet today, actually." She cringed. "I'd very much like to." Steve immediately got to her and put an arm around her to help her in case she felt faint. She didn't, but she appreciated the support. She leaned into him as he led her out. Merry trailed behind them.

* * *

At the canteen, Pippin took a little portion of everything that looked at least a half-way decent. She was reluctant to mingle with the crowd of S.H.I.E.L.D agents, and instead steered her escort toward an empty table. A few people stared at them, but didn't raise a fuss. Natasha joined them a few minutes later, followed by someone she addressed as Clint. Pippin felt more out of place than she had in the elevator with finely dressed interns. She ate without talking to any of them until a younger agent, one she assumed would still be in training, came by the table and started to chat with Clint. His eyes landed on her.

"New recruit?" He gestured at her. Steve shook his head. "Detainee."

"I guess she's a non-threat, then."

" _Supposed_ non-threat," Natasha amended. "She twitches funny, she gets neutralized."

"Gee, thanks," Pippin commented scathingly. "Better not breathe too loudly around here or you'll have a polka-dot shadow." She scoffed. "At least you aren't a suite, too. You don't act very much like one, at any rate." Her nose wrinkled. The young agent, who she'd heard called Kiser, tilted his head at her, bemused.

"Suite?"

"I think I get it," Clint mused. "Never heard it put that way before."

"I've been dodging suites all my life, since I was eleven," Pippin sniffed, forcing herself not to cry. She directed her wiles entirely on the young agent, Jacob Kiser. "Could we talk about something else, sugar? You don't really want to know anymore, do you?" She knew she was emitting again, but she didn't care. She just didn't want that particular subject brought up at the moment. She grinned prettily and propped her chin on her fist, leaning toward him. She blew her breath right over his face, and touched the back of his hand.

"No?" He sounded confused. "I don't think I do. We can talk about whatever you want." Pippin showed more of her teeth, grazing his palm with her fingertips. She glanced about them. Quite a few people had turned toward their table, and among the younger, male or female, more numerous than among older agents or those who wore wedding bands. A few had gotten to their feet. Perhaps she'd turned it on a bit too strong? She consciously tried toning it down and found that only those within close range stayed standing or staring. When she turned her head again, Natasha, Clint, and Steve were all staring at her in varying degrees of caution and alertness. None of them seemed dazed or entranced. Pippin ducked her head shyly. "I guess I didn't focus enough." She fidgeted and picked at her food. "You could stop staring, you know."

"We're staring because Coulson was right. You just couldn't resist doing that, could you?" Hearing that come from Steve sort of hurt, even if she didn't know him all that well and he was only being inquisitive.

"It didn't harm anyone," Pippin snapped defensively. "I came to talk to Pepper, not to be studied under a microscope or treated like a terrorist because people are a little bit more apt to listen to me."

Clint snorted. "A little bit more apt? You had half of the canteen enthralled just by touching on Kiser."

"And look at Kiser," Natasha murmured, motioning toward his blissful, post-veela encounter expression, the typical reaction when one had been successfully enamored by them. "He looks like he got laid or got a raise, just by her talking to him and touching his hand."

"That is because there is often a euphoric effect," Pippin grumbled.

"I can't help that he still has that stupid grin on his face."

Jacob Kiser lumbered off dreamily at that exact moment. The trio at the table watched him. They finished eating quickly, not waiting for Pippin to finish. She barely had time to grab her cat. They surrounded her to block her view of the others (and she was sure the others' view of her) and herded her away from the room full of curious and clueless agents. The group didn't stop until they came to a group of empty rooms. Pippin's protests died on her lips.

"Well, it's better than a cell, I suppose."

"You're not officially a prisoner yet," Steve explained, not unkindly.

"But you shouldn't be around too many people," Natasha elaborated.

"Unless they can resist you."

Pippin rolled her eyes so hard she thought they'd pop out of her head. She stepped into the room, glad for the privacy if it wasn't going to be an isolation cell or interrogation room. She set Merry onto the bed. The door closed behind her without any preamble or farewells. The lock clicked. Well. She paced the perimeter while Merry groomed himself. She plopped down beside him and exhaled. She spent about the next hour going through her belongings and brooding, and then she got an idea. There'd been something, _someone_ she'd been curious about and denied access. It couldn't hurt, right? If anything, she'd end up doing something to _him_ and not the other way around. Besides, she'd grown bored, and she'd be safe, correct? She tried to think of all the reasons it would be a _very bad idea_ to go ahead and follow her sudden whim, her sudden grotesque fascination with the condemned, but couldn't muster up those contradictory voices.

She leaned over, wand concealed, and cast a non-verbal Privacy Charm. When she lifted herself upward, she used a silent reverse-Alohomora on the door. She set up wards to protect Merry, and then she twirled her wand around herself as if wrapping herself up in rope to cast a Disillusionment Charm. She only wished the door hadn't been on camera. Another thing to spell if she found it hard to Apparate. She'd worked from a young age to find a spell to block cameras from tracking her movements, and out of desperation, determination, and dedication, had succeeded not only in that, but in the creation of other spells as well.

Coated in layers of spells that made her feel faintly as if she had cobwebs draped over her, Pippin committed her current surroundings to memory so she'd be able to return to them, and then attempted to Apparate to where Coulson had led her by accident.

* * *

She managed to land directly on the other side of the door, into the little hallway she'd seen earlier. It felt terribly hot in there, like a sauna almost. She added a layer of cooling charms and continued, creeping past biological sensors and cameras alike. Her Disillusionment Charm really almost made her invisible, which she liked; better that than merely being a chameleon. She stayed in the shadows, mostly, went from one point to another and not in an entirely straight path. She reached one of the checkpoints and had to use her Skeleton Key spell to not set it off and bring down all of S.H.I.E.L.D on her. The intense security she had to work her way through had her tiptoeing on thin ice and wondering if she should turn back. It kept going down, down, down, more and more. Eventually, she came to a final area, a final locked door. She hesitated only a moment, and then she infiltrated it too.

A single, glowing cell met her sight. She swallowed and stepped towards it, not making a sound even when she'd gotten as close as was possible. She reached out to touch it.

"I wouldn't touch the perimeter, if I were you." At first she hadn't even noticed its inhabitant, too caught up by the yellow radiance of the cage. It thrummed as if with electricity. The hair on her arms rose. She found herself face to face with the sole inmate present. This was not the Loki from the news coverage. He'd lost weight and color, and his hair had grown longer and into disarray.

She swallowed, berating herself for her dumb impromptu plan. Although logically she knew she was _probably_ safe, she also knew not to poke a sleeping dragon in the eye.

"It was a bad idea to come here," she said aloud, breathless. "I'm an idiot."

"Oh really? And why's that?" He seemed rather amused, and kept trying to see her. He also honed in on her exact location by hearing her voice. His eyes were very green. He almost seemed like he _could_ see her.

"Well, generally you don't poke a sleeping lion in the eye. I mean, when you do, whose face do you think it rips off first when it gets up? If it's Honey that woke it, the lion rips off Honey's face first." She shut her mouth fast, wondering if she'd given him any ideas or not. Pippin _really_ wished then that she'd just stayed with Merry, gotten cozy, and sent a message to Bailee. Ah, shit.

"I'm not going to, as you say, 'rip off Honey's face.'" He lowered himself to the floor and crossed his legs. He looked like a freaking gazelle, all long limbed and graceful. "I'm just curious as to why you're here. I'm assuming by the way you've come in that you shouldn't be."

"Well, _I_ was curious," Pippin said simply. She dropped to the floor, feeling much less graceful and much more ungainly, and curled her legs around. At eye level with him, she saw that he had some sort of starved, thirsty longing riddling him that he wasn't aware of showing.

"Curiosity killed the cat," he remarked lightly. Pippin made a face.

"But satisfaction brought it back."

His eyebrows rose to his hairline. "Did it indeed?"

"Yes." Pippin straightened her spine and studied him more thoroughly. Almost as if he knew he were being scrutinized, he slid closer. The yellow barrier hissed a warning. He licked his lips and his Adam's apple bobbed. "Well, you know who I am, but—"

"You wanna know who the hell I am and why I wanted to talk to you?"

His lips quirked. "Perhaps. Are you in the habit of interrupting your conversation partners? Some might consider that quite unseemly."

"Only when they're overly pretentious." Pippin grinned despite herself. "Besides, I got bored. Isn't that a good enough reason?"

He pretended to contemplate it. "I suppose. I've done worse out of boredom in my time."

"I'll bet," Pippin muttered.

"You think me overly pretentious?"

"Well, I couldn't come out and say 'You're an ass, Loki', now could I?"

His smile tightened. "I suppose not. You're sure no one sent you?"

"Like who? Casper the friendly ghost?"

Any hint of a smile faded. "You really came of your own free will? No pretenses?"

"No pretenses," Pippin assured him. She played with the hem of her jeans. "I suppose you want to know who I am. I'm Peregrin, Peregrin Rosethorne. I'm called Pippin. I have a cat named Merry. I'm half veela, and part elf, and, as you probably guessed, a witch. And," here she giggled, though it held a trace of wry, bitter humor. "I'm wearing literally layers of charms that I had to put on to get here, and I still might get found out. Then I'll get a nice gray jumper to match yours."

She lowered her head, unaware that he had continued to stare at where he knew she was, but still couldn't see.

"And why have you risked so much, Pippin?"

"I dunno. Maybe I'm stark raving mad," she chuckled blackly, "Or maybe you are."

"Maybe." He was still processing what she'd told him about herself.

"So tell me about you," Pippin changed the subject, sounding much brighter. "You've got a story to tell, I can smell it on you."

"Interesting choice of words."

Pippin shrugged. "I shrugged, in case you wondered."

"I didn't." His eyes gleamed.

Pippin sighed. "I have a question, before you start."

"Who said I would start?"

Pippin bit back a rude remark. "Then you can still answer the question."

"What, 'Why did I do it?'" he sneered.

"No," Pippin replied, and she saw surprise in his features.

"I didn't know if you'd…want me to come back, if I could. And another question: What happens if I touch the barrier here?"

"Why in the nine realms would you _want_ to come back? Surely your curiosity has been satiated."

"Well, you're kind of all right," Pippin mused slowly. "And it helps that you haven't tried to kill me yet….And I know what it's like to be lonely, and I think this is cruel, no matter who you are. So stop avoiding the questions!"

They stewed in silence for a long time, and he peered into the air she occupied. "I think it would be acceptable if you returned," he responded at long last. "You're not overly annoying," he added rudely, smirking in what could have been taken by the wrong person as an overtly obnoxious expression. He pointed at the barrier. "As for this, I do believe it gives you quite a nasty shock…or perhaps that just pertains to my person and not someone else's."

It was then that Pippin noticed a healing burn on his hand. Instantly she lunged forward without thinking, and actually went right through the barrier. She gasped in surprise, stunned when she felt nothing.

"Either I've been cut in half and have suffered the quickest death in history," she whispered slowly, staring into his face, suddenly very close to him, "or I'm allowed to cross."

Loki held very still. The barrier had shifted around her as if she'd merely ducked her head through the curtain of a waterfall. He could feel someone breathing onto his face. He reached out and grasped at the air, catching a lock of hair. He let it fall when he felt someone pick up his injured hand and turn it over. They had soft skin and no callouses. "You're not dead," he said, finding it strange to be touched by someone he couldn't see, who also happened to be a stranger. She probed gently up his wrist, pushing his sleeve back. He'd kept the burn covered, but hadn't been able to do much else with no medicine or powers. He started talking softly. "I may be dying. I haven't the slightest clue as to whether or not I really am. But I'm not healing nearly as quickly." He didn't know why he didn't protest, or why he'd shared so much with her. Or why she kept bloody probing his burn.

"You're sick," Pippin said, right by his chin. He felt her close by then, nearly in his lap as she examined him. "I can smell it now that I'm close enough." He jumped when he felt a nose move along his wrist, and then two fingers taking his pulse. "I wonder how long you've been like this. No one checks on you. I wonder if your brother…"

He jerked away violently from her, and felt her fall forward onto his legs. "He is _not_ my brother."

"He still cares about you," the invisible Pippin retorted testily. Loki felt long curls brush his ankles as she righted herself. "And you're ill. What if it's serious? What if it's an infection, or what if someone poisoned you? What if you _die_?"

"And you care so much?" Loki spat. Pippin pinched him hard on the chin. "Yes, as a matter of fact I do! Anyone with a heart would see this is inhumane. It's not right to let you die like this. I mean, our convicted felons get medical treatment! How would we mete it out otherwise? Deny someone a root canal if they mugged someone? Pull their oxygen if they carried illegal firearms?"

Loki had almost pushed her, but stopped at her words. "Well, I would so love to see Old One-Eye's face when you tell him I need someone to take my temperature. I'm sure he'd love it and your little escapade."

He felt another pinch to his inner arm. "You're not helping."

He heard her fingers tapping the floor. She must have actually been thinking of a way. "Did you mean Odin or someone else?"

"Does it matter?"

Pippin laid the back of her hand on his forehead, and it almost reminded him of when Frigga used to do the same thing. "Not really." She was close enough still that he felt her shrug and her hair tickled his cheek. He felt her reposition herself so she wouldn't exactly be in his lap anymore.

"You know what veela are, and what they do, don't you?"

"No."

"Well," she carried on, "Never mind. It wouldn't help anyway. Even if I could compel a doctor to treat you, he wouldn't know what to do since you aren't human. I'm no doctor, so stealing supplies wouldn't help because I've no idea what's wrong with you. The last strike is that anyone who would know how to help you probably wouldn't."

Loki bit his tongue. There was one…no.

He felt a hand on his neck next, feeling around on his throat until it hit his pulse-point. Pippin made a displeased sound. "Maybe it'll clear up on its own. Open your mouth." Loki opened his mouth to protest, not to obey, but invisible hands grabbed his head to hold him still.

"Don't fidget and hold your tongue down for me." Pippin, unseen, peered into his mouth, glancing at tongue, teeth, and what throat she could see, as well as sniffing.

"No weird smells, no spots, no anything. Which is good and bad."

She let him go, and Loki felt very manhandled and indignant. He honestly didn't know why he hadn't already attacked her for her taking all of those liberties with him.

Pippin scooted back some, a part of her always out of the cage, just in case. "So, what do you do? It must get pretty lonely here."

"I do nothing." Loki found his voice. "I have nothing. I am nothing."

Pippin scowled. "I told him they'd drive you mad down here in total isolation." She snorted. "Pity they don't listen to me, or I'd throw in a good word."

"Told who?"

"Coulson. Course, he says you killed him and all, so maybe he's not the best man to bring it up to."

Loki tensed. Pippin patted his knee. "Don't worry. He and I aren't close. I just met him today. Besides, I like to take my own judge of character."

"And?" Loki prompted, stealthily creeping his hand closer to where she'd last been to try and find her.

"And you've had every opportunity to kill me or pull me in all the way and you haven't."

"And what does that tell you?"

Her hand landed on his, patting it, and he froze again. "That you're not all bad, and not as dark as they say you are."

"Worse." He pulled his hand away.

"I think you might be nice," Pippin heard herself say, "You just might not know it yet."

"And is that why you're being so irritatingly caring? On the off chance that I'm secretly pleasant to be around? Because you're hanging onto some hope, some assumption that I'm some lost soul or charity case, or because you pity me? Maybe you're under some delusion that I'm the saintly brother."

"No." Pippin barely concealed her anger. "But maybe, just maybe, under all that bitter, there's someone with a broken heart and a load of insecurities who's just been pushed too hard and too often."

Loki laughed. Pippin waited until he finished to say, "Or maybe you're just a sociopathic bastard who breaks everything he touches. Who knows? I mean, all you'd need in a group of friends? Smart, loyal, compassionate, and admiring. Any on their own and you'd grow bored of them quickly, but together?"

She sounded neutral, not cruel or cold, but he couldn't tell without seeing her features. He heard a swishing, and then something pressed softly into his hand. A vial, he realized, turning it over on his palm.

"To strengthen your immune system. I've got this burn paste, too if you'd like." Her tone had turned very clinical. The sound of things clinking reached his ears. She took up his hand and dabbed something cold onto it, then something thick, and spread them the length of his injury. He watched as it seemingly wrapped up itself. She took the vial back from him and opened it. "Go ahead and take it now. It's not poison." To demonstrate, she took in the tiniest amount.

"At this rate, I wouldn't care if it were," Loki noted bleakly. He snatched it and downed it all in one go. Pippin pointed her wand at him and muttered something under her breath to make sure he'd sleep. After a time, and after he crawled to his cot and flopped onto it, she pried herself away, flooded by a new concern. "I've got to go. They'll be missing me. No matter what happens to me, I'll try."

"Try what?" Loki prodded sleepily. "To play nursemaid to me?"

"To make you more comfortable. And yes, if that's what it takes."

She scrambled backwards through the yellow barrier, seized by the thought that they might return before her to her borrowed quarters.

"Goodbye, Loki. Sleep well," she whispered. Loki didn't know when or if she's already gone by the time he replied to her.

"Goodbye, Pippin." He glanced around his cell, eyelids fluttering closed. Again, he was alone.


	3. Acquainted

**Much Madness Is Divinest Sense**

 _By Lithia Sunset/Lithia DeLaSunset_

* * *

 **Much Madness Is Divinest Sense**

Chapter 3: Acquainted

* * *

Pippin popped into her temporary room to find no one but Merry waiting, and he merely meowed a welcome at her. She flopped onto her borrowed bed and sunk gratefully into the mattress with a wearied sigh. She felt surprisingly drained from her little excursion. Her heart kept galloping along dangerously, she supposed from the adrenaline involved in sneaking and confronting Loki of all people. He'd been surprisingly non-homicidal, but then again, he did say he'd been bored, and maybe being a little under the weather put off his killing appetite. Either way, she'd survived the interaction, and had time to contemplate it.

Merry curled tightly into her spine, his little bones reassuring somehow that she wasn't a complete and total idiot, or a failure. She clutched onto a pillow bodily, laying her head on the top of it in an almost melancholy manner, and stretched her hand behind her to stroke Merry's ears. Merry had been her constant companion ever since she had found him. He tended not to like very many people immediately, if at all, and his displeasure ranged from indifference or distaste to purr loathing, in especial if they seemed like a threat to his mistress. He had turned out to be very loyal and affectionate to Pippin no matter what. His purr vibrated against her back warmly, and he pressed closer.

She thought long and hard about her close encounter with Loki in lockdown. She didn't pity him, that she knew. She just couldn't help being kind, even to him, someone presenting a potentially deadly threat. He was sick; he needed a real doctor. He needed someone who hadn't dropped out of Poppy Pomfrey's Medical Program just before her assessment to pass on to the next level of training in order to follow the slightly less legitimate family business. She groaned and beat the other pillow on the bed out of frustration. She brooded, her thoughts in such a dark place that when sleep came, she readily embraced it just to escape her own mind, unaware that her dreams would not comfort her. Stress had a way of picking the memories that hurt most poignantly and twisting in the knife.

* * *

 _The sun shone weakly through a curtain of melancholy clouds. Pippin combed her hand through Abril's soft hair. She loved Abril's hair, loved its texture and smell, and loved braiding it and winding flowers into it when she did. She traced her button nose affectionately, nuzzling her round cheek. Abril's petite frame and flowery dress made her look like a fairy as they lay on Pippin's enchanted quilt in the grass. Crooked trees crowded around the clearing like eager admirers, the wind rattling their patchy branches. Leaf-Fall had started, and a chill danced through the air that day. Earlier, Merry stalked among the grass hunting mice, rabbits, and who knew what else, not at all put out by not being able to sun himself. He groomed himself methodically, completely ignoring Pippin and Abril, his ears swiveling as if he were standing guard for them. Abril and Pippin regularly frequented the little clearing to see each other._

 _Sometimes Pippin had herself convinced that Abril, too, had elf heritage, but in reality she was merely a poor Spanish Romani muggle with powers over water who had come to America with her family. She had a lighter complexion than Pippin, a creamy olive brown, and an inviting, different hue of the same color in her eyes. Her dark hair had always felt smooth and fine. They had met when they were six, and then, at fourteen, Abril had kissed her. At sixteen, Abril had went against her culture and her people when she stripped in front of Pippin after leading her to the lake, and then asked her to join her. She loved her Pippin, and Pippin loved her._

 _"But we_ can _get married," Pippin insisted. "Where I come from it is_ entirely _possible."_

 _"Pero, querida," Abril murmured softly. "I am not like you."_

" _No," Pippin whispered, "you're very special, Abril. Your powers—"_

" _Do not make me a witch," Abril interrupted. "As we are, we stand on opposite sides of a rushing river, perilous to cross."_

 _Pippin pressed her lips to Abril's and traced them with her tongue. She whispered against her chin, "I would jump straight into the river for you, and we could swim down its length together."_

 _Abril pressed against Pippin, trembling, and laid her forehead to Pippin's collarbone. "And that is why I cannot do this. I do not want to watch you drown."_

" _I learned how to swim a long time ago," Pippin murmured. "Even while carrying another."_

" _Still," Abril played with one of Pippin's braids, "Those like me would not accept a witch, those like you would not accept a power, and the mundane accept neither of us. They call me_ Gypsy _, they call you_ Gadji _. I am a peasant, you are bourgeoise. We stand in the face of two tsunamis, and yet you insist we take on both."_

" _Unapologetically," Pippin insisted fiercely. "Someone once said that a woman also embodies a force of nature, and as such need not feel sorry for existing, because hurricanes do not apologize." She clasped both of her hands around one of Abril's. "Do you believe that? That we are both able to take on their preconceived notions?"_

 _Abril opened her mouth to speak, but instead drew Pippin into another kiss. She climbed on top of her and reached for the buttons of her blouse. She undid the first three, slipping her hand inside of Pippin's shirt. She dipped her hand into her bra and cupped one round breast, massaging her nipple between her thumb and middle finger, much to Pippin's delight. Her other hand disappeared underneath Pippin's skirt and landed on her knee, trailing torturously to her thigh and pausing. As she started kissing her neck, Pippin moaned softly, enjoying the stimulation. Her arms came up around the smaller-framed girl whose hair dangled around her face, and she ran them up and down her body, squeezing her hips gently. "Marry me," Pippin gasped._

 _She got no reply except for a hand sliding between her legs and touching her through her underwear. Abril stroked lightly, adding pressure on ever other beat until Pippin quivered, knowing she was wet and able to feel her vaginal walls throbbing for attention. Abril pressed a finger to Pippin's clit, and Pippin growled. She wriggled her hips violently, feeling the precious bundle of nerves engorge itself as she pulled Abril's dress over her head and her underwear off of her legs. Even from her angle she could see Abril's folds glistening, her inner-thighs even moist. The heady scent of the other young woman's arousal heightened her own._

 _Abril kissed the tops of Pippin's breasts, unbuttoning her shirt the rest of the way and hiking her skirt to her waist. She knelt, then, and parted her legs. Pippin could feel her own arousal pooling out coolly. Abril's head bent, her face temporarily disappeared between Pippin's darker thighs, and Pippin arched upward. Abril's hot little mouth descended on her slit, her small tongue sinking into Pippin. Pippin thrashed bodily, flailing when strokes landed on her clitoris._

 _Her hands fell to Abril's hair. Abril kept her pace slow and steady, drawing more and more pressure into Pippin. Her desire felt hot like lava, igniting her veins while she writhed underneath Abril's touch. When she came, she repeated her earlier request in erratic pants. "Marry…me…Abril…marry me."_

 _The moment that Abril came up from between her legs, gave her one soft kiss, and touched their centers together, whispering, "Yes," a shocked gasp came from somewhere nearby._

 _Abril nearly toppled off of Pippin in shock. Both of them found that one of the elders in Abril's community gaped in horror at them. She pointed at Abril menacingly. "You are not one of us! You have betrayed your own people, you have tainted and defiled yourself with this Gadji witch! You break our laws, you—you—"_

 _She choked suddenly, clutching her chest. She stumbled blindly for a few feet, and fell forward, then lay still. Pippin went to check on her, feeling for a pulse. She found none. Abril's eyes widened further than they had before in utmost alarm. "My gods," Pippin breathed, "she must have had a heart attack or a stroke. She's dead."_

" _Then I have killed her," Abril whispered. Her eyes met Pippin's. "I have killed an elder. We killed her." She started to rock back and forth, whimpering. Pippin gathered their clothes and dressed both of them while Abril mindlessly cooperated, still in shock. She led her away by hand, and took her back to her home, away from more condemning figures and scorn, to her father, Victor Rosethorne, and her mother, Oceane._

 _Pippin knew Abril might not marry her, but she also knew that the other teen could never go home again._

* * *

Pippin woke with a bitter taste in her mouth and tears on her cheeks. She dashed them away hastily and struggled into an upright position, feeling trapped. Somehow she'd managed to mess the sheets despite not even being under them. Glancing around she caught sight of the sheen in Merry's eyes from across the room. He'd perched on the dresser, no doubt displeased by her erratic movements, and now stared at her, head up and ears perked, his paws tucked neatly underneath him. He meowed lowly as if inquiring something. His whiskers twitched.

Pippin scrubbed at her eyes groggily. She fought for mobility and accidentally launched herself in the floor by her movements. Merry sneezed loudly. "Oh, shut up, you," she groaned from a heap on the floor.

"Sometimes I hate cats."

Merry made a sour spitting noise in response. "I said sometimes," Pippin grumbled. She rubbed her chin.

"I really should go get some antibiotics for him," she said aloud, ignoring the uncomfortable twinge in her stomach that reminded her of guilt. She knew he needed it, but going back on her word like that after insisting she hadn't come to help him? She pushed the entanglement of thoughts aside. "Broad spectrum, muggle style. I can mix them with what I know about our sort of tending, right Merry?"

Merry's bob of a tail swept from side to side as much as it could.

"And besides, I've already rushed back here once and yet they seem in no hurry to fulfill my request. It's been what, hours since I came and still no Pepper? Might as well be fucking productive and shit."

Pippin reapplied her charms as if touching up makeup and apparated out of the room for the second time that day. Her father had all sorts if ties in both the muggle and magical communities, and he happened to own a great deal, from shares in business to newspapers and even hospitals or health clinics. She kept a particular clinic in mind and soon enough landed in the apparition zone near it. She approached cautiously and identified herself to the watcher, who quickly hit a buzzer and spoke into it softly. A few minutes later, a man in his early forties appeared. Pippin was familiar with Matthias in particular. He could get her anything she wanted, healthcare wise. He was the family healer who had also pursued training at university for a doctorate. He shifted nervously upon seeing Pippin.

"To what do I owe this visit?" She could practically hear the anxiety crawling through his veins. Pippin dove into her explanation.

"I've got an acquaintance who's taken ill recently. He's isolated, unable to access medical facilities or professionals."

"Except you," Matthias noted, "He some kind of recluse?"

"Some kind," Pippin agreed to speed things along. "As for what's wrong with the guy, here's an impromptu chart with no medical history to go off of: he's got a burn and a possible infection. No smell on the breath, no spotting, discoloration, or lesions in the mouth or anywhere I can see, and no cough, but probable fever and tachycardia, which can't be determined because I don't know his baseline stats." She hit her fists together in frustration, watching his reaction. "Which obviously means it could be anything, but I'm going for infection as a given with an untreated and open burn."

"And you don't know his baseline stats because there's no medical history?"

"Or because I'm not his bloody keeper," Pippin retorted, adding emphatically, "He isn't a _typical_ patient."

"Not a typical patient?" Matthias inquired, his eyebrows shifting upward. "Not a muggle, then?"

"Not even human."

Matthias drew in a sharp breath. "Not human. May I ask what species?"

Pippin shook her head. "It's to be kept a private matter. I trust you, but not who you would have to work with to fully help me, and I couldn't ask you to do what really needs to be done."

"Which is, I assume, actually assess the patient. So I have a patient I can neither see nor hear nor touch or smell, so I must rely on second-hand subjective observations."

Pippin cringed. "I never said it would be easy, Matt."

Matthias held his hands up defensively. "I never said I wouldn't do it. The truth is that I've been a little bored of late. It might do me some good."

He stepped forward and hooked arms with her.

"Now, come along and we shall get you some supplies, princess."

He steered her into the back of the building and to a small, deserted room. He left for only a few minutes, five or ten, but returned and carefully emptied a kit he'd packed while she waited. Pippin readily accepted the empty kit he handed her, watching as he repacked each item into it. Matthias spoke aloud and made sure she saw each one.

"This should be enough sterile bandaging and binding to put over your dressing until the burn can be exposed, and I'll provide you standard gloves, of course," he said. "Sterile gauze pads and saline water to clean the wound; triple antibiotic cream and burn salve for the burned flesh." Matthias pursed his lips. "I included pain medication on the chance that the wound is severe enough."

Pippin nodded. "I'll take it. And the antibiotics, are they here?"

"Yes, next, actually. You'll make sure he takes them as prescribed?" These and the pain relievers he pressed directly into her hands, and she laid them on top herself.

"Yes, I will." She stared at his lingering hand. "How is Abril?" she whispered quietly. Matthias exhaled heavily. "Better. She misses you."

"I know." Pippin bit her lip and met his gaze, closing the case and clutching it to her chest. "Tell her I love her and I still think about her, yeah?"

Matthias smiled sadly. "Yeah."

He fidgeted with his watch and she scuffed her shoe along the floor. "She's happy, Pippin."

"I know," Pippin murmured, "but I still miss her."

"We both do." He hesitantly placed his outstretched hand on her arm, coming closer to her. "Will you be all right? Do you have somewhere to stay?"

"You don't have to coddle me just because I'm sad, Matthias," Pippin whispered. She cringed.

"I'm not coddling you, I'm…"

"Yes?"

"I understand," he finished. "I loved her too."

They stood silently until he hugged her and kissed her forehead, and then she made her way back outside.

She paced the alley for a while, fighting herself over whether or not to treat Loki. She might have dropped out of her training, but doctors and healers all took the same oath and were held to the same ethical standards, muggle or magical. She'd already fought with Loki himself over treating him, and didn't understand her hesitation. She shook her head at herself, ashamed she had to even ask herself if she should treat a sick person. That's all Loki was, a patient, no matter how morally reprehensible she or anyone else might personally find him, just like any rapist or terrorist or murderer who got chemotherapy from a prison doctor.

"Get over yourself," she spat at her reflection in a dirty window. She strode determinedly back to the apparation point, spun violently, and departed.

She was going to tend her patient whether he accepted it or not, and Loki better damn well appreciate it.

She knew he wouldn't.

* * *

By the clock on the wall, Pippin knew an entire day had passed. At mealtimes, a stoic orderly of some sort would drop by with food for her, and she'd test it for poison or drugs and then scarf it down hungrily. She waited just long enough to make sure they'd gotten into a routine with her, and didn't know she'd snuck into a restricted area, which included the agonizing wait of another full day after that, and one after that, until nearly a week had passed, before she finally decided to go back to where they were keeping their most high-profile prisoner on base. After another interrogation session, to which Pippin offered little more than the first time, Pippin cloaked herself and transported herself there with the kit.

Her hand flew to her mouth and she nearly dropped the pack. For some reason, Loki looked worse than ever. Weaker, paler, and slumped against the wall, he blearily eyed the seemingly empty expanse with interest. Beads of sweat stood out on his skin. Pippin rushed forward without pause, and soon crouched before him. She picked up his wrist without fighting even a twitch of indignant protest.

"What the fuck," she said aloud. "Now your heart rate is slow instead of fast. Your fever seems worse." She felt his forehead, and he stared wordlessly, almost blankly. It terrified her for some reason. "It doesn't help that it feels like a goddamn hundred degrees in here…"

Her eyes landed on a food tray nearby. A sudden thought struck her, and she remembered what she had said to him the first time she saw him.

"Asshats," she sounded appalled. "They _have_ been putting something in your food."

She continued examining him, and saw his mouth working.

"Don't talk. I don't know what they've done."

She pushed back his sleeves and gasped at the puncture wounds there. "Well shit." She sat back on her haunches. "This is so cruel, so much crueler than I thought. Can you blink, once for yes and twice for no?"

His momentary glare abated and he blinked, once, his jaw clenching.

"Have they started experimenting on you in any way, or used something to subdue you?"

A steady, single blink later, and Pippin ground her teeth together in fury. Hands shaking in anger, she opened the kit and mechanically began cleaning his his burn. Some of the sharpness returned to his gaze as he watched her hands work. She quickly cleaned and dressed the wound, wrapping it snuggly. She let his arm lay in her lap and dug around for the medicine. She started speaking rapidly, sounding barely comprehensible to herself as she rushed along. "I don't even know what they gave you, and I know I could literally kill you trying to give you simple antibiotics, but the way they've decimated your constitution in such a short time means that your immune system could be in shambles, which leads me to believe that a simple infection or cold could snuff you."

She pulled the medicine free and looked at him again, really looked at him, and bit her lip. "You look as weak as a kitten, so I'm not going to ask you to sit up, but it would be helpful to know I'm not about to choke you. Can you swallow?"

He blinked again. Pippin blew a stray curl out of her face and supported his head with her own body. She summoned a chipped mug from her purse, wiped it out, used the water spell to fill it, and put the first pill from the pack to his lips. "Open if you want to live, and no biting."

Loki's mouth opened and Pippin dropped the pill onto his tongue. She put the mug to his mouth with the chip facing away from him and massaged his throat so he could swallow. She patted his limp hand.

"Good, that's good. I know that probably tasted awful, but I promise it'll help you." She smoothed his damp hair away from his forehead. "Now, I have some pain medication that I don't even know will be effective; or, alternately, it might be _too_ effective." She opened that pack too, not realizing until then that Matthias had given her morphine. She tapped the tablet against his lips. "Open your mouth if you want to take it." Loki opened his mouth again. Pippin helped him take the morphine and made him drink all of the water in the mug. "You're probably going to feel a little sleepy, I think. Sleep will be good for you, and you'll heal better."

As much as he had been immobile, he still felt tense. Pippin let her head drop into the wall behind them. "They leave me alone all day when they aren't feeding me, but I assume you're not worried about me."

She might as well have been talking to herself. "Look, I'm not going to slit your throat, okay? What sort of person nurses someone back to health and then kills them?"

Still, he didn't relax until a few minutes later, when the drugs began to take effect. Pippin drummed her fingers against the floor, highly disgusted with S.H.I.E.L.D. She assumed they had subdued him _for_ future experimentation rather than having done it yet. Still, she wondered if they'd put a tracker in him. She began combing through his hair and rubbing her fingers over his arms, neck, and shoulders but found nothing. She didn't know if this relieved her or alarmed her. After all, you didn't track someone you had marked for death. Pippin hit her head against the wall, cursing. How far did her oath as a healer take her? How far would it push her, and what would it inspire? Worst of all, Pippin knew she couldn't confide in anyone. She couldn't trust anyone with this secret. Who would help her, or call her sane?

He stirred slightly, muttering but not waking. Pippin was very glad veela were strong, because his head felt like a lump of lead laying as a dead-weight against her chest. She felt like he was about to squish her boob flat with his thick skull lolling about. She only hoped he didn't drool in his sleep. She drug her wand out of her pocket and ran a quick diagnostic spell to make sure she wasn't killing her patient, who smelled of sick and metallic chemicals that made her nose wrinkle. What the hell had S.H.I.E.L.D done that he couldn't even speak, let alone move? They'd made him powerless and defenseless, something she knew no one would relish, but especially not someone used to feeling powerful and untouchable. Her findings told her what she'd expected: irregular heartbeat, fever, infection, and sedation; however, the results told her something else. She only hoped Loki wasn't contagious. Needy bastard, why did he have to be all sick and dependent on her to make sure he didn't end up dissected? That was another issue: could she, ethically, as a medical professional, let them fulfill their sick, twisted fantasies by experimenting on him and seeing what parts of him lit up like a Christmas tree when they did certain things? And if not, could she, ethically, as a human and inhabitant of earth, remove him from their custody? Pippin wanted to cry fat ugly tears, but instead merely drew angry little illustrations onto the floor with her wand.

Usually she didn't react so passive-aggressively to a situation, but usually she didn't feel so cornered. She wanted to scream, to wail her frustration to the skies, but had to bite her tongue hard instead, which only strengthened her metaphorical lisp. Damned if she did and damned if she didn't, honor and oath-bound, and epically screwed over. What the actual fuck had the gods been thinking dumping him on her like that? She cursed her ill-luck and decided that she had better help the poor man before they started poking his liver and cutting into his brain. She sighed tiredly, knowing he would be hell to handle. There was only one person who would help with unwavering faith in her, and who wouldn't call her crazy, and that person had been shipped to Canada, Ireland, and then Cape Verde: Abril.

Pippin's face twisted with distaste at the thought of involving the girl. No, she mustn't do that, which meant she would be all on her own. And still, still she had no contact with Pepper. Fucking hell, it couldn't get any worse, could it?

Suddenly the doors to the room opened, and Pippin shifted so abruptly to free herself that Loki fell forward, immediately emitting a cry of protest as his nose hit the floor. It wasn't as if Pippin could have gotten away with staying still. After all, invisible or not, it would raise questions if he seemed to be supported by thin air. He lay there, panting and weakly attempting to move, even as a tall man browner than Pippin stepped into the room with Hill and three people in lab coats. He had a black patch over one eye, and wore all black, a coat that rippled rather dramatically, and thick, heavy boots. He came right up to the barrier. Pippin held perfectly still, watching as Loki glowered at the man, unable to do anything more.

"So, how's 'real power' today, hmm?" An unnaturally indignant gurgling came from the man sprawled on the floor. Pippin supposed the phrase meant something personal to both of them. "Well, at any rate, doctors White, Becker, and Finch from S.W.O.R.D are happy to have your full cooperation," he continued, chuckling. The more infuriated his prisoner seemed, the more satisfied he became. Pippin shuddered.

The doctor identified as Becker, the oldest female in the bunch of white coated-individuals, stepped forward with Hill. She looked to be part Asian, and had her thick hair pulled into a bun. Her countenance held nothing but a cold, clinical illustration of expression, and her tone of voice came off as clipped and detached.

"Initially we'll keep the subject alive, but eventually, that will become unnecessary. Don't worry though, that will come much later. It will be essential to research to keep you alive for a few years to have a comprehensive study of your organism." Pippin felt sick, stifled by her disgust, and horrified. How could anyone talk to or about a person, a living, breathing _being_ , that way? She pressed her hand to her mouth hard, suddenly afraid she might throw up listening to the callous way White and Finch described some of their procedures in great lengthy detail. It lasted for a long while, and Pippin continued fighting the urge to wretch. They made her feel dirty simply by listening to them.

At long last, when they finished, the trio withdrew. Hill's eyes couldn't have been harder and more menacing staring at the crumpled heap named Loki. She looked like she might watch the experimentation for kicks and enjoy every minute. Pippin wondered quickly if sadism or revenge fueled that hungry snarl that craved someone else's pain so ardently. She decided it didn't matter, because no one claiming to wear the white hat would do what S.H.I.E.L.D planned to do. Their operating on supposed good faith while conducting something that made her so sick to her stomach made her realize Pepper probably had no idea just with or for whom she worked, and that they might not be ideal to protect her from the people Pippin meant to tell her about. The sinister dealings made her wish she wouldn't have to go through anything she did in the future alone.

She curled in on herself, wanting to reach out and help but unable to do so while Hill and the man lingered.

"And Thor has no idea, does he, Director Fury?"

"No," Fury said, and Pippin felt her stomach flip with a revolting sense of relief. There was that, at least, to be thankful for in the ugly situation. "I'd like to keep it that way," Fury said, "We need him as an ally. As far as he knows, his requests are being fully met, and he's too duty-bound and busy to check."

"And he trusts us?"

"He trusts us implicitly."

Pippin could feel herself trembling. She kept reassuring herself that the two would be gone soon. Fury crossed his hands behind his back.

"I expect the good doctors will start their endeavors very soon. Within the next week or so, I believe."

He strode closer, staring down harshly at Loki. "They're gonna turn you inside out to see what color everything really is, and then they're going to gut you like a trout and pickle you. How does that make you feel?" Loki managed to snarl, to which Fury guffawed loudly. He turned his back on the cage and exited the room in three quick strides. Pippin thought for a moment that Hill could see her as she sat huddled, waiting them out, but the woman turned on her heel and marched silently out of the room. The doors relocked themselves ominously.

Still, Pippin waited.

Minutes passed before she unfurled and crept toward Loki. He'd grown very still, and she almost thought he'd fallen asleep again, but he scowled fiercely, directing that unsavory expression at her. Her shoulders inched into a shrug until she guiltily noted he wouldn't be able to see it anyway. She parted her lips, licked them, and said, "The number one rule of the trade is not to get caught." He kept right on eyeballing her wrathfully. Pippin wrinkled her nose. "I'm not scared of you, so stop pouting like a bitch-baby. You know I'd be toast if they found me in here. Then we'd both get probed and prodded and whatever sick shit they have planned."

Pippin bent and braced so the she could heave Loki into an upright position using her shoulder. He was heavy as hell as a deadweight, but she managed, thankful of her own strength. She searched for the mug, found it, and filled it with more water that she forced him to drink. It took a little convincing.

"You need your fluids. Drink it now when I ask nicely, or later after I cut off your air supply and you _have_ to open your mouth." A pensive pout, but he acquiesced, sipping at intervals and looking extremely sour. Pippin didn't care about his foul moods, and wouldn't put up with his shit. She'd had unruly patients more than once before she quit the program.

"I have to leave now," she said once he drank all of the contents. She helped him stand and practically drug him to his cot. She laid him to rest, noting that he didn't look nearly as murderous. "Don't fret yourself," she said, arranging his hands over his chest and noticing that they felt clammy. "I'm not gonna let them make a shish kabob out of you."

 _How reassuring_ , he seemed to say with his eye roll. Apparently being ill and drugged up didn't prevent him from being an asshole. Pippin's hands went to her hips, arms akimbo.

"Look here, Mister I'm-too-good-for-everyone else, I'm the only person here _not_ trying to torture, mutilate, maim, and murder you, so you can't sniff and sneer at my methods. Beggars can't be choosers, so unless you'd like to get cozy here…" Loki's malicious leering subsided into smothered irritation. Pippin took that as a good sign. "Don't be a dick and turn your nose up at the hands that aren't holding the scalpel. I'll be back." She wiped her hands on her jeans and stood. She was careful to retrieve the mug and anything that could be used as evidence that she'd been there. Once she had, she paced nervously, and then disappeared to have a good think.

* * *

Pippin laid her head against the wall of the shower, unsure as to whether or not she actually had a way to do anything about her ethical dilemma even if she wanted to. She'd have to have somewhere to take her charge, and she had no guarantee she could even get him out of his cell. For all she knew the two of them, along with Merry, would spontaneously combust if she tried side-along apparation. Loki himself would be too weak to help, and that nasty collar she'd seen on him, as well as the injection, would make sure she had absolutely no magical contribution from him. Then she had to consider Pepper, who had rather intimate ties to at least one, if not two, sinister organizations. She didn't want to involve Matthias, either. She dearly hoped she had all of the medical supplies she would need for a while. She mulled over everything she considered earlier and came to the same conclusions, which only exasperated her further.

She shut the water off and stepped out onto the carpeted floor. The little bathroom connected to the bedroom she'd inhabited for approximately a week. She dried herself and stepped to the mirror, wiping the steam away with her bare right hand while her left clutched a towel to her body. A sound of utter tiredness ripped from between her teeth. Her shoulders slumped under the wight of her current predicament. "Ah, fuck," she grumbled. She narrowed her eyes at herself, frowning. "The luckiest person in the world," she sneered unhappily. "I get stuck being the world's most endangered babysitter and Loki gets to trip off of morphine. Go freaking figure, huh?" She squinted, but her reflection offered no other solutions or answers.

Toweling her hair, she searched around in the cabinets for any sort of lotion, and finding some, started rubbing it into her skin, fervently praying to any god listening that it wouldn't have drugs in it. She opened another cabinet for perfume.

She pulled the gown they provided over her head and migrated back into the bedroom area. She dropped onto the end of the bed, brushed out her tangled wet ringlets, plaited her long hair into braids, and then twisted them into a single bun. She crawled into the strange bed, under the stranger covers, her head filled with whirring, strange thoughts, and her mind focused solely on finding a way to prevent inhuman and immoral scientific and medical proceedings. She had almost another week to work on the cage, and to nurse Loki back to some semblance of health. She had to make sure she herself didn't end up hooked up to their machines for "tests". She would have to arrange everything on her own, and she would have to find a safe place for them both. She knew S.H.I.E.L.D and S.W.O.R.D would search for him, and possibly for her, and she would have to rely on the secrecy of her own community to hide them.

She decided that Hogwarts, a school of witchcraft in Europe, and a place of which she had only heard, would be a refuge for them, and that they could reach it via the Salem Institute or the neighboring town of Ravenswood. They could reside there within the stone walls of Hogwarts like so many others, or in the neighboring village of Hogsmeade, safely. All-magical communities such as that, and a school like Hogwarts, would both be cut off completely from the Muggle world. Anything with no ties to Muggles would provide a safety net, and as long as no one asked too many questions, they would be fine. Pippin settled in to sleep a bit more comfortably, for she had somewhere to flee to.


	4. Panicked

**Much Madness Is Divinest Sense**

 _By Lithia Sunset/Lithia DeLaSunset_

* * *

 **Much Madness Is Divinest Sense**

Chapter 4: Panicked

AN: Hey guys! Sorry. There's not usually such a big pause between the first chapter and more updates for me, but I'm starting college this year and it's been a whirlwind couple of weeks. I promise I'll fix any bugs in these chapters! Just pm me about them. I don't have much time before class starts, and I'd want to fix them before then, while I know I have ample time. Thanks again, and I hope that this story is okay and that someone likes it.

Love,

Lithy

* * *

Pippin stared cautiously around the shop, waiting for her order. She fidgeted with her jacket sleeve and nearly jumped out of her skin when Nancy, another kitchen witch, came up behind her and put a hand on her shoulder. "Miss Thorne?" She'd only given them half of her surname.

"Yes?" She winced at the squeak in her voice, accepting the sealed bag containing packets and a large, airtight jar. The latter felt warm against her hands. She cleared her throat twice to be able to speak, embarrassed. "Thank you."

She hurried out onto the street and ducked into the open market. She'd wanted to make healthy dishes if she was going to nurse Loki back to health, which meant that he couldn't keep eating tainted food. She planned to start off with broths and tears first to make him stronger, and then move on to heavier foods that would be easier to handle when he wasn't having difficulty moving at all. She worried over the infection, whatever they'd been poisoning him with in his food, and whatever they'd shot into him. She had seen the little panel in the wall, and wondered when they had gotten the other drugs into him. He would have to have been pretty vulnerable to not fight it off, but perhaps whatever had been permeating his meals had weakened him beforehand. She apparated away from the market and to a place she knew would be safe.

Her mind flooded with warm images and smells from Matthias' remote lake house. She elected to use his house because she knew he wouldn't mind. Pippin let herself into it via the key hidden underneath the hideous toad situated in the middle of his backyard flower bed. She slunk cautiously through the house to make sure that someone hadn't broken into it while Matthias stayed in the city. Finding it completely empty, she made her way to the kitchen to conduct her business.

She slid the jar onto the counter and wove a Stasis Charm to preserve it while she worked. She put a kettle on to boil without turning on the flame and reached amongst her newly bought supplies, taking in hand and opening a few of her packets. Fishing around in her bag, she extricated a kit, slipping into the gloves and picking up a pair of sterilized tweezers. The scent of harvested dandelion filled her nostrils first. She extricated each root to make sure that they were in their proper stages and clean, laying them out on a tin cookie tray. She had bought flowers and tender young leaves, too, but they weren't a part of the recipe.

Satisfied with the roots, Pippin began putting her supplies away into Matthias' cabinets, leaving only what she planned to use in making the dandelion root chai tea. She planned to use the house for a brief period of time to get things sorted. She kept her ingredients and instructions in mind and began her preparation:

 **1 tablespoon dried dandelion root**

 **2 cinnamon sticks, broken into pieces**

 **5 to 6 cardamom pods, crushed**

 **1 teaspoon whole cloves**

 **1 teaspoon whole black peppercorns**

 **1-inch piece of fresh ginger, thinly sliced**

 **4 cups filtered water**

 _Place the dandelion root and spices into a 2-quart pot and cover with the water._ Her hands worked in silence, as still and quiet as the rest of her, breaking, crushing, and slicing, her intent pooled into her concentration. She dropped the contents into the pot, covered it all with water, and flicked the flame on to bring the lot to a boil. It hadn't taken her very long to arrange things, so while she waited, she dug around until she found the double thermos Matthias liked to use. Pippin rinsed it out and dried it just in time to catch when the water boiled. _Reduce heat and simmer for 10 to 15 minutes._ She retrieved a ladle and opened the jar, steadily filling one side of the thermos with the bone broth. Once she filled the side to the top, she closed off both it and the jar, which she stored in the fridge. Pippin sought the fine mesh steel strainer she knew Matthias owned, switching off the eye on the stove when the time ended. Pippin strained the contents, dividing the liquid between a quart jar for storage and the other half of the thermos, adding in honey as a natural sweetener into her to-go mixture, but not to the rest of it that would be stored. She placed a Stasis Charm on both the thermos and the sealed jar of tea.

Leaning back against the counter, Pippin admired her handiwork, but merely waved her wand to straighten the mess, needing to rest for a bit. She made herself a cup of chamomile tea, sipping at it leisurely. For her next and final task of the day, she planned to make blueberry sherbet for her petulant patient whose face she couldn't help but see as she washed the cup she used. Normally she made her own bone broth and found it highly more potent when she did, but the length of preparation left Pippin empty-handed and bound to be discovered. She couldn't stay away long enough to tend to something overnight. She had to rely on people she'd worked with at previous occasions instead. She was a kitchen witch, and so was Nancy, which had allowed Pippin to excel with potions and chemistry, and for which she had delved into cooking magic and healing. Even without medical training, people still came to her for homeopathic remedies made more powerful by the extra oomph they received when her hand prepared them.

She grabbed the blueberries, reviewing the current recipe requirements to gather everything else:

 **2 cups fresh or frozen blueberries, thawed**

 **1 cup fat-free buttermilk**

 **1/2 cup sugar**

 **1 tablespoon fresh lemon juice**

 **1/2 teaspoon vanilla extract**

 **Garnish: fresh mint sprig**

She preferred fresh blueberries instead of frozen, and regular buttermilk to fat-free, so she'd altered the recipe, but she remembered it in its original form sans substitutes to keep it straight in her head. She knew it would take twenty more minutes of her time, maximum, and then she'd use a Flash-freeze Charm to accelerate the dessert's freeze-time.

Pippin processed the first five ingredients in a blender because it was easier and quicker, poured the concoction into a 9-inch square pan, covered it, and froze it until firmness showed. Next came the processing of the frozen mixture, in batches, in the blender until smooth. Covering them again, she used the Flash-freeze Charm once more. She took a serving, scooped it into a smaller thermos, sealed it, and cast her last Stasis Charm of the day. She stowed away the sherbet and anything else left out from her activities, carefully sinking the linked thermoses into her purse, thankful for the undetectable Enlargement Charm on her bag.

Next, hurriedly, came her laundry, and the switching out of clothing stored in her bag for clean articles of hers that she left on one of her previous visits. She helped herself to some of the food already in the fridge, cooked a spicy garlic and tomato soup to take in yet another thermos, and tidied up the house for her imminent arrival once she dumped Loki into more ethical hands. She made the guest room inhabitable and clean, going so far as to air out the entire house. She gardened, chopped wood, and rechecked her work of things. Letting out a satisfied sound, she let herself out, re-stashing the key in case Matthias needed it. She trudged into the tree line to the tortoise rock, walked to the lee side, cloaked her person, and vanished with a pop.

* * *

Pippin napped a short while, aware a starving Loki wouldn't get an improved constitution or his daily dose of meds. She fed Merry remnants of her lunch. He seemed to enjoy tilapia very well, though she didn't dare share the rice or greens. She had left two pieces unseasoned just for him. He purred contentedly, stretching luxuriously. He entered into one of his lazy grooming sessions, watching her through heavily lidded eyes as she shrank into thin air.

She blinked back into place a moment later, once more inside of Loki's cell. He was nowhere to be found. Her gut clenched nauseatingly, and she felt her food pushing to come up her throat. The doctors must have started their hideous work early. She fell to her knees, rolled into a tight ball until much later, when the yellow suddenly blinked into existence and the vault doors slid open.

The three S.W.O.R.D doctors entered, all pushing along a hospital bed of some sort. Loki lay unconscious and naked atop it, strapped down to it. Pippin withheld a gag as she spotted his bare torso, fine lines of stitches and staples zigzagging across it that made him look patched together like Frankenstein's creature. His burn, which she realized belatedly would have signaled his being cared for or made them think he'd found magic, had been exposed and scraped almost to the bone. He had other splotches of burns that looked as if they were electrical shock scorches in origin, but strange heat blisters also shone on what appeared to be patches of blue skin. He also looked like he had been dunked in water, and Pippin wondered if they'd done a test to see how fast it would take him to drown. His livid complexion made the young witch wonder if he'd had blood drained from him, and so did the IV bruise on the back of his hand that surely also meant more drugs, more poison to scrape out of his veins, and more opportunity for infection. A large bandage stood out on his throat, and Pippin spiraled into the blind panic that came from wondering if she would be taking care of someone forced into muteness, or if someone had slit his throat. Bruises and cuts littered his body as if he had willed himself to fight back. Pippin guessed he probably had.

The problem became immediate then, because she couldn't let him stay there like that. She would remove him, and she would take care of him if they hadn't already killed him. She silenced her departure, landing clumsily in front of an apothecary. She burst in and immediately dove for blood replenisher and Dittany. She slapped down pay and didn't even bother leaving the store to Apparate back to her room, where she picked Merry up in a panic, darting hands using a long scarf tucked into her belongs to tie him securely to her. He sensed her dismay and cooperated without a fuss, his fur on end. Pippin glanced around the room to make sure she had left nothing, scourged her presence from it, and returned to the cage in time to see the doctors making arrangements to keep Loki hooked to all manner of monitors. She stood off to one side out of their way, hands itching to steal him away at the moment's notice.

"Unbelievable, isn't it, Becker?" Finch trilled excitedly. " _Three_ heart valves at each site instead of two."

"And those organs," White gushed. "Like ours, but somehow more efficient, and some _new_."

"I know," Becker said. "The tolerance to cold is astounding, but the intolerance to _heat?_ " She shook her head.

"Too bad he won't last as long as we hoped," Finch pouted. "Though the electric shock stimulation was _quite_ amusing…"

"Yes, well, I suppose we were all a little excited," White soothed her. "The exploratory sessions were amazing, though, and the blood, skin, hair, and wound samples will provide much information." Becker's head bobbed as she spoke.

"Mm," Finch hummed, "So will the nail clippings, saliva, and semen." Her nose wrinkled. "The drugs finally worked. Took him long enough to react. I suppose he'll be less interesting now. It's easier to keep the induced coma going: it keeps him from fighting like an animal. He wouldn't have gotten his throat cut if he'd stayed still. What a pity for such a great specimen."

White protested that. "We don't want to turn his brain to mush just yet, dear. We need to revive him, but induce paralysis." Her hands reached for his IV. Pippin lost it. She felt a snarl rip free of her throat, the only warning the mad scientists had.

Separate Stunners hit Finch and Becker. White screamed. Pippin reached her in three strides, and she could feel her features morphing into the form veela took when under duress. She slammed the woman's back against her chest, one of the long, icepick-shaped claws for nails held against the woman's carotid artery. Her wand poked into her cheek. Her voice came out as deeper, raspier, as she hissed threateningly, "Kill him and you die. Paralyze him and you die. Do anything but revive him with what you're about to administer and you die. Do you understand?"

She gave White the tiniest room to nod, her clawish nail scraping across the woman's flesh enough to make a small nick. The woman whimpered, not as frigid or stoic as Becker. Pippin had to admit, though, being grabbed by an invisible thing with claws and magic had to be utterly terrifying, and to top it off she had been threatened by said thing. "Please," she begged. Pippin let her go, watching carefully as she followed the command. She turned meekly, Pippin's untrusting eyes still locked on her hands and body movements in case she tried anything on her and she had to react quickly. "The effects may take up to twenty minutes to wear off so that he can come out of this."

"Good," Pippin growled. "Did you put a tracker into him? Answer me honestly or…"

"Yes," White gasped, clutching herself fearfully. Her fear-scent permeated the air, her terror Pippin's ally. Pippin moved closer, amplifying her irresistible veela draw. She captured the woman's eyes at a safe distance. "Are you quite sure?" she purred seductively. White nodded mindlessly, her fright still evident.

"The other drugs will be leaving his system when?"

"Thirty-six hours."

"And the coma cocktail?"

"There," the woman indicated dreamily without looking at it. Pippin held the side of the other woman's face, her claws cupping her cheek.

"Are you going to kill me?" White whispered innocently. Pippin released her from the trance. "No. I'm not a killer," she hissed. She summoned the prepared dose with a flick of her wrist and plunged the syringe into White's neck. The woman collapsed to the floor immediately, the whites of her eyes showing as the orbs within those sockets rolled into her head.

Pippin stepped over her, taking the rails down on the hospital bed. She encouraged another wave of anger and adrenaline to course through her to keep her altered form. She sliced away at wires and cords she couldn't pull free, carefully pulled Loki close, cringing all the while, and twisted, Merry's yowl in her ear as the room swirled and their surroundings shifted.

* * *

Pippin had to forcibly relax her hackles and calm herself. Their arrival managed to be directly in the center of the guest bed she had made for herself earlier, her plans of being alone when she returned to Matthias' dashed. The location was Veiled, Unplottable, Untraceable, and protected by a Fidelius Charm, with the magic around the grounds likely enough to make electronics malfunction anyway, but still she worried over a tracker for when they emerged elsewhere. If they did, she corrected herself, gazing sorrowfully at the naked man she barely knew. He embodied human rights violations, even if he wasn't human. They'd likely partly mutilated, violated, and tortured him all day.

Guilt coursed through Pippin when she thought that, sipping at more chamomile tea. She didn't want him to wake up to someone else touching him again when he didn't want to be touched, in a strange place, defenseless, injured, and naked. She had pillows propping him up and a thin sheet covering his lower half. She'd already seen him, irritated and limp against his thigh, but it was more to preserve his dignity and save his face than any squeamishness toward penises.

His entire body twitched and shivered, and she tensed. His eyes snapped open soon afterward, and a garbled cry of pain came from his lips, followed by a wordless scream. His gaze darted around erratically. Pippin immediately held him down so he wouldn't hurt himself, hoping her hands weren't laying anywhere it hurt. "Please lie still, Loki," she instructed calmly, an edge in her voice. "You'll hurt yourself." His piercing, bloodshot stare focused on where her voice originated. "Please," she repeated. She caressed his cheek with her knuckles to comfort him, but she yanked them away when he flinched. His lips moved soundlessly. Pippin caught herself halfway through her insistence he not talk when she actually understood what word his lips were forming, the same word over and over. Her name.

"Yes," she cooed, "it's Pippin." He visibly relaxed, though remained wary. "I couldn't bear leaving you with them after I saw, well, this," she waved her hand at him for emphasis. "I made the impulsive split-second decision to take you away from those people that's probably gonna put me on all of their hit lists and watch reports."

She reached over to the thermoses packed earlier. "I made stuff for you. It's more of a liquid-soft diet type thing because you could barely chew the other day, and now….Please let me give it to you."

Loki blinked once, which she took as a yes. She opened the tea and poured it into a clean mug she had sitting aside on the nightstand beside of a bowl. "This is dandelion root chai tea. Please drink, but be careful, because it's hot." Her magic gave it a certain sparkle. She hooked an arm around Loki to support him, and she blew on the tea before setting the rim of the mug to his mouth. She listed off the ingredients, stroking his hair while Loki sipped the hot tea, humming appreciatively. He drank it at intervals to the very last drop. Pippin cooed encouragements until the very end, surprised he trusted her so easily. She set the mug onto the nightstand with a faint _thunk_. "Now you need to take in this bone broth."

Loki made a face at the strong odor it gave off as soon as she uncapped it. He scrutinized it while she poured it, suspicious, but he let her spoon it into his mouth. He seemed to enjoy the taste more than the appearance or smell, and greedily slurped each spoonful. Pippin found she had no trouble getting him to keep either the broth or the tea on his stomach, but still she waited before offering the sherbet. Loki seemed hesitant, but accepted it, too. Pippin could tell that each abrupt change in flavor that her courses brought surprised him in small ways. She grinned, offering him water and his pills, which he took easily enough. His eyes began to droop sleepily, but Pippin made him ingest one more thing: the blood replenishing potion. He balked until she told him what it was, and then he drank it with a grimace.

"I know it tastes like ass," Pippin muttered at his expression, "worse than ass, but please don't spit any out." Loki obeyed reluctantly, squeezing his eyes tightly shut.

By the time he had gotten those things in his system, he seemed worn out by recent events. Pippin shifted her weight to leave, but felt the smallest of brushing from his fingers. When she met his gaze, he seemed to be pleading with her to stay, even while he faded. Pippin nodded, summoning the nearest books. "Shall I read to you?"

Loki consented in blink. Pippin held the books up in his line of sight, unsure what he might like to hear.

" _The Once and Future King_ or _The Hobbit_? Treat the first like a yes and the second like a no."

Loki blanched and quickly blinked twice. Pippin smiled radiantly.

"I want you to know I'm smiling. I love _The Hobbit_ , and I hope you will enjoy it too." Loki rolled his eyes a little as she opened the book, crawling to his side, settling, and curling her body towards him, he in her arms with her head on his uninjured shoulder. She began reading aloud then, softly, right by his ear, not aware how much he liked it, or that he was smelling her hair and wondering what she looked like.

"In a hole in the ground there lived a hobbit. Not a nasty, dirty, wet hole, filled with the ends of worms and an oozy smell, nor yet a dry, bare, sandy hole with nothing in it to sit down on or to eat: it was a hobbit-hole, and that means comfort..."

* * *

 _Little Loki crawled into the tree branches as quickly as was possible, desperate to avoid his pursuers. He went higher and higher, clinging to the rough bark. His keen eyes flickered every which way trying to determine if he'd been followed. He sat quite still, hardly breathing, his small chest heaving._

 _The older boys had locked onto him a few weeks ago after he had prevented them from kicking a cat to death. His being prince didn't faze them, and they didn't seem to appreciate his intervention on their fun with their prey. His brother offered no help or protection, instead more concerned with impressing his friends. The cat in question, which Loki had hoped to befriend and keep, had run off from him, leaving him as alone as usual. It had hurt to have a cat reject him too. Loki grimaced at the memory, shoving it out of his mind. He perched, statue like, for what seemed a very long time. Only a familiar female voice calling his name got him to move again._

 _Frigga came into view, the hem of her gown sweeping across the forest floor soundlessly. She paused as if sensing Loki peeking at her and peered upward. Concern colored her features. Her lips and brows drew into curtains of worry. With her gold hair, it made her look like a crying star. She outstretched her arms toward the tree he crouched in at the moment as if to catch him or soothe him out of it. Her mollifying tone could have made the moon dance out of the sky and into her motherly embrace. "Please come down from there, Loki," she begged, "you could fall or hurt yourself."_

 _Slowly, Loki detached himself from the rough trunk and began snaking his way back to the ground. Frigga waited patiently, and rushed forward to hug him to her chest as soon as his feet touched ground. "Tell me, what has happened and from whom have you fled?" Panting, Loki shook his head in refusal. He could solve his own problems and fight his own fights. He didn't have to involve Frigga. He just needed to teach the boys a lesson. But Frigga would not take his silence, and after kissing his cheek, she took his chin in hand and gazed understandingly into his open, vulnerable little face._

" _I will not be angry with you. Let me help you."_

 _So Loki reluctantly gave in and told her about the bullies and the cat, and trying to be true to himself. Frigga listened attentively, looking quite fondly at him. "Do you know," she said, "how very proud I am of you?"_

 _He shook his head, ducking underneath her cloak. He pulled it about his head, staring up at her innocently. Frigga scooped him into her arms. "We must find this cat," she said very seriously. "And we must remedy those boys."_

 _She walked with him on her hip towards the gardens. "What do you think would be a fitting punishment for those who have wronged you?"_

 _Loki's forehead scrunched in contemplation. He shrugged. "I dunno. I think they should know how it feels..."  
_

 _"You want them to learn from their mistake to help them grow as individuals, don't you?" Frigga encouraged gently. Loki pouted, uncertain about that._

 _"I want revenge," he said finally._

* * *

Pippin awoke with a start, startled that she had fallen asleep reading. The light coming from the window shown golden-coral, and a bird twittered from a branch close to the house. Loki's breathing was ragged and difficult by her ear, but he slept on despite his horrific injuries. She quietly closed her book, tracing over the spine and edges. She set it aside and carefully negotiated her body off of the bed without disrupting her charge. She tiptoed with the dirty dishes down the hallway to the kitchen, washing them and laying them in the rack. She poured Firewhiskey into a shot-glass by the sink, throwing her head back and swallowing hard. She repeated the action, wiping her mouth on the back of her hand and sighing. Her cheeks puffed and she slowly released her next heavy exhale. "Well, we're both fucked now," she muttered. "Fuckin' S.H.I.E.L.D and S.W.O.R.D."

Flushed from the alcohol and her own hot temper at the thought of the two not-so-innocent entities, she stripped for a shower, glad for the heat since she had somehow caught a chill during her little nap in the warmed house. She came out much less anxious and much more sleepy. She retreated to the guest room, both to be able to monitor Loki closely and because she didn't particularly want to sleep in the bed Matthias used. She stuck the first aid kit underneath her arm and snagged a blanket out of the hall closet, wrapping herself in it as if building a cocoon. She enveloped Loki in it too, wrapping the excess around his shoulders in the event that he too got a chill.

Blanketed underneath the lamb skin throw, she quietly cleaned and redressed his original burn, this time with magical burn cleanser and paste that she applied to the electrical burns, too, knowing he needed as much help as he could get in the healing department. She took out lines of stitches and staples one by one, unworried by the blood that began seeping, sure the spell she had in mind would help heal the slices in Loki's flesh. Waving her wand over the gaping incisions, she chanted the song-like incantation, " _Vulnera_ _Sanentur."_

She barely noticed Loki wake up, his eyes widening then narrowing. The first passage she made across his ravaged flesh eased the fresh blood flow she had caused, the second made the wounds to knit, and the third removed the worst effects of the torture, much like it worked for counteracting _Sectmsempra_. Still she kept whispering _Vulnera Sanentur_ under her breath, even on the other injuries, until she switched to muttering _Sana_ repeatedly while dribbling essence of Dittany onto the same places. Most areas improved greatly, and all to some extent.

Pippin felt light-headed. She slumped forward, her forehead touching Loki's. That's when the white of the soiled bandage on his throat caught her attention. She forced herself to sit up and heal that wound as well. She sealed it as she had the others, tossing the discarded bandage aside. All she could do by then was flop into the pillows tiredly. She barely recognized she'd let her head fall onto his shoulder again.

"That's the best I can do," Pippin mumbled around a throbbing in her temples. "I've never poured so much into healing someone…never had to heal so much alone...need sleep…" Her words slurred, and she passed out on him.

Loki stared at the ceiling, feeling much better. He felt something else, too, with her unconscious form pressed against him: her breasts through whatever she was wearing, soft and warm, nipples hardening from near-direct contact with his chilled skin. He still had no idea what she looked like, but the simple, unintentional touch left him feeling momentarily aroused. He smothered the sensation and instead focused on his breathing to try and make himself fall back asleep. He was sore all over, and still worse for wear, but all of the surface wounds had been taken care of to a surprising extent. Merry hopped onto the bed, wedging himself between Loki and Pippin. Loki exhaled through his nose, strangely relieved, and soon drowsed into more slumber.


End file.
